


for once we could stay gold

by SadieFlood



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 16:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieFlood/pseuds/SadieFlood
Summary: Three years later, Will's mostly satisfied with life underground.  Magnus has some concerns.





	for once we could stay gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).



Three years underground and Dr. Will Zimmerman is not exactly putting his education or experience to good use as the de facto HR manager for a staff of bickering abnormals that seems to be growing by the second.

Devra in sector 11B has been bullying Hec in sector 18C about the length and girth of his tail, or lack thereof, so Devra has to be counseled and moved to sector 6A and Hec has to be moved back to sector 11B.

And who gets to handle things like investigating complaints and giving warnings and coordinating transfers? Certainly not the very busy and important Helen Magnus, so it must be her equally busy but slightly less important right-hand man, apparently.

“Sometimes they need a sympathetic ear,” Magnus tells him the first time he expresses reservations about his new role. “You're just so good with them.”

He knows she has neither the time nor the temperament to handle a 22-minute monologue from Jennifer in sector 11B about how much Hec hates her because she's the only one in the sector who doesn't have a tail of some sort, as if having gills makes her a second-class citizen or something.

He doesn't really have the time, either, but he supposes that he does have the temperament.

Sure, he didn't sign up for an office job, but he really doesn't miss almost dying every five seconds.

Well--

Most of the time.

*

Once every few weeks, he surfaces near Cusco, Peru, and heads to an Internet cafe, where he Skypes with Henry and Kate simultaneously. 

Onscreen, Henry is usually overrun by his adorable offspring, despite Erika's best efforts to shoo them away during the call.

“Hey, send me some photos before I leave the cafe,” Will says. “They're growing so fast.”

“Tell me about it,” Henry says.

Kate pretends to gag. In the background, a brunette blearily says, “Hey, babe, can you keep it down? I'm trying to sleep it off.”

“Try a little hair of the dog,” she suggests. To Will, she says, “Sorry.”

“Wait, is that the same girl from last time?”

“What's it to you?”

“It's been... two months? Is that a record?”

“She looks really familiar,” Henry says. 

“No, she doesn't.”

“Is she the one who--”

“Wait, what? Keep in mind that some of us have been a little out of touch,” Will says.

“Oh, dude.” Henry can barely contain himself. “There was a very serious, very deadly, very _public_ situation involving an abnormal who just disappeared at the end of it, and no one could prove it, but it _really_ looked like someone _very_ similar to Kate's girlfriend was involved.”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Kate snaps.

“That's the spirit,” Will says. “So she's an abnormal?”

She rolls her eyes. “Relax, Dr. Zimmerman, she's not a client. It's totally ethical.”

After the destruction of the Old City sanctuary, Kate used her connections to create a position for herself as a sort of social worker for abnormals who aren't interested in the rumored underground sanctuary; they just want to go about their daily lives. She's always traveling, always has a new partner wherever she goes. Like a mini-Helen Magnus, not that he'd say that to her.

“ _Anyway_ , what about you, Indiana Jones?” Deflection. Classic Kate. “No Karen Allen to dig up bones with you out there in Peru or whatever?”

“Still not digging up bones. But I wish,” he says. “Not even a Kate Capshaw.”

“No Alison Doody?” Henry asks, then chuckles to himself.

“She was a Nazi,” he notes. “And, no. No time for love, Dr. Jones.”

“Maybe you just need a hat,” Kate suggests. “Ladies love the hat. Send me your address, I'll FedEx one to you.”

“Hats make my head itch,” he says. “But thanks for the offer.”

“You can't live like a monk forever,” she points out. “You're, like, melancholy. Do you really still miss her after all this time?” 

He blinks. He and Magnus had agreed to keep Henry and Kate – and some others – out of the loop regarding the Hollow Earth sanctuary and their continued work. It was meant to be for their own good, to let them both move on with their lives; he's still a little conflicted about that decision because of course they'll find out anyway, probably at the worst possible time, during some end-of-the-world crisis or something. But, as always, Magnus gets the final say. So what's the right answer? “Yes, always”? “No, not so much anymore”?

“I actually got a LinkedIn request from her a couple of weeks ago,” Henry says. 

He can't hide his confusion. “You did?”

“Yeah, I think it said she was still with SCIU.”

Oh. _Abby_. He'd returned to the surface after his first trip underground to give up his apartment, put a few things in storage, a few things in his luggage, a few things in the trash. When he said, “I just feel a need to go off the grid for a while, after everything that's happened," Abby had been a bit nonplussed but frustratingly accommodating. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, exactly, but it wasn't that.

He didn't blame her for anything then and he doesn't blame her for anything now, but he can barely remember a time when he thought she was The One. 

Well—

That's not exactly the truth.

He can remember picturing the two of them getting married, having a few adorable offspring of their own, settling into a normal life. Easy.

But he can also remember the creeping dread that accompanied that picture, and the relentless, pervasive certainty that marriage, adorable offspring, and a normal life weren't what he wanted. Maybe she didn't really want any of that, either; despite their many conversations circling the subject of spending the rest of their lives together, their career goals had diverged pretty dramatically toward the end.

“I'm not surprised,” he says. “Did you accept the request?”

Henry looks at him like he's grown a second head. "Dude, I'm not on LinkedIn.” 

* 

Magnus is vigorously attacking a report with a red pen when he returns that evening. 

“How was it?” she asks without looking up.

“Good. The weather was nice,” he says. “Kate's thriving professionally. And personally, it seems. Henry sent some new photos; want to see?”

“Do you have to ask?” She sets down the red pen.

He pulls up the latest pictures on his phone and hands it over. 

She sits back in her chair as she swipes through the gallery. Children, children, Erika, smiling family. “Good for him,” she says, almost inaudible. 

He comes around to her side of the desk to retrieve the phone. Before he retreats, she looks up at him and says, “Do you mind if I ask you a rather impertinent question?”

“On the contrary, I only answer impertinent questions,” he says.

“Did you ever want that? _Do_ you want that?”

“Wife, kids, house, the whole shebang?” He sits on the edge of the desk and pretends to consider the question. “Why, you making me an offer?”

“Be serious.”

His pulse quickens, but he shrugs and adopts a blasé tone. “I had the chance, remember? House in the suburbs, baby on the way. Took a leap of faith with a crazy woman instead.”

A smile plays on her lips. “Word is that Jennifer in sector 11B finds you quite attractive.”

“Unrequited, I assure you,” he says with a shudder. “I think a no fraternization policy for the staff would cut down on a lot of the complaints, actually. I started drafting one this morning.”

“Ah, but where's the fun in that?”

“Says the woman who doesn't have to listen to--”

“This is a community, Will,” she says. “If they can't fraternize with their co-workers, they're out of luck.”

He decides to head back to safer ground. “Henry's kids are cute, and he's really happy, but I'm not tempted to leave,” he says, “if that's what you're worried about.”

She reaches out and squeezes his hand, which does not slow his heartbeat at all. “You're not trapped down here. You can take a sabbatical whenever you want. Go out and explore the surface. The Hollow Earth sanctuary will always be here.”

He decides to take a chance; if need be, he can always play it off as a joke. Just in case, he puts on a silly faux-suave voice when he says, “Are you trying to say you want me to date other people before I make my move?”

She looks stricken, rather than amused. Crap.

“Just kidding,” he says quickly.

She stands up. “No, you weren't.” 

“I wasn't,” he concedes. 

“I assure you that I was not insinuating anything of the sort.”

“I didn't mean anything by it, if you didn't want it to mean anything. I'll put in my resignation if you want,” he says lightly. She's standing awfully, awfully close, and he wonders idly if she can hear—or feel—his heart pounding.

“And leave me alone with sector 11B and their myriad complaints? I don't think so,” she says. “Did I say I was offended?”

“Frankly, I'm not sure,” he says carefully. “Did you? Are you?”

She kisses him in lieu of answering the question.

“Sorry,” she says. “I suppose that's a blatant violation of the non-fraternization policy.”

“That policy was a stupid idea. Very stupid. The worst. I'll go tear it up right now, in fact.” 

Her lips are very close to his ear when she says, “Don't you dare.” The tone of her voice suggests she'll brook no argument. 

“Tomorrow, then,” he says, taking the opportunity to press his lips to her exposed neck.

This is such a bad idea. This has always been a bad idea. 

But she almost shudders against him as she whispers, “I missed this,” and all of that goes right out the window.

“It's been a long time,” he agrees. Not since Carentan, and an infrequent occurrence before then. “Longer for some of us than others, I guess.”

She withdraws and regards him carefully. “Lot of water under the bridge.” 

He knows that look; she's giving him an out. “Pretty sure that bridge went up in flames ages ago. New one's under construction.”

Maybe he'll remember to care about all the reasons this will end badly in the morning.

Probably not.

*

“My performance has been _exemplary_.” To no one's surprise, Jennifer from sector 11B is his first appointment of the day.

 _You and me both_ , he thinks. _God, that's inappropriate. Sorry._

“So it's really unfair that I keep getting these warning notices just because it takes me longer to get back from my breaks with these.” She flaps one of her fins on his desk.

“Do you want to transfer to a different sector?”

“No, I love my job,” she says. “I just want to be respected. Who doesn't?”

“I'll talk to Hec again,” he says. “Let me know if things don't change, okay?”

“Thanks for listening, Doc,” she says. 

Magnus is leaning against the doorway as Jennifer slowly makes her way out. 

“He's the best,” Jennifer tells her, jerking a thumb in Will's direction. “One of the only guys around here who knows what he's doing.”

“I'll be sure to note that in his next performance review,” Magnus says. 

Will makes sure Jennifer's well out of earshot when he says, “I think that came up in my most recent performance review, actually.”

“I don't remember that,” she says. “I'll have to check my notes.”

He makes a show of checking his watch. “I mean, it might have been _implied_ , if not explicitly stated. I actually have a little time right now if you'd like to go over that review again. Since one of us might be fuzzy on the details.”

She tries not to smile. “As it happens, my next call was canceled.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “My office or yours?”

“I don't know, should we consult the non-fraternization policy?” She closes the door behind her. 

“Never heard of it.”

*

“You don't look totally mopey for once,” Kate says on their next call. “Spill.”

He shrugs, but he can't help smiling.

“I think Dr. Jones might have made some time for love after all,” Henry suggests. 

“I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation,” he says.

“Good for you, pal. Is it serious?”

 _If you only knew_. “It's early days,” he says. “But I think so. On my part, anyway.”

“Good. All work and no play, et cetera,” Kate says. 

“Following your own advice, I see.” The brunette with the scales is curled up beside her on the screen, engrossed in her own cell phone. 

“Shut up.”

“Do we get to be your best men?” Henry asks. “Or bridesmaids, whichever, I'm open-minded.”

“Sure,” says the brunette, without looking up.

“Hey, bring Marion to the wedding,” Henry says. “If you two can tear yourselves away from adventure and whatnot for five seconds to come and visit your best friends.”

 _Not bloody likely_. “We'll see. I don't think she's big on weddings.”

“A girl after my own heart,” Kate says.

“Mine too.”

* 

“Hey, you've seen _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ , right?” he asks her that evening, when they're both in a state of undress. His room, as usual.

“ _Seen_ it?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, let me guess, it was probably inspired by your life, right?”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far.”

“I always had a thing for Marion,” he says. 

“As did I,” she says. “The real one, that is.”

He forgets his train of thought.

* 

On his next trip to Cusco, his phone buzzes with a “save the date” e-mail from Kate about five seconds after he hits the surface.

He drops in to give Magnus her status update about five seconds after he returns. 

“Henry's doing great. Kate's getting married to an abnormal,” he says casually.

“Good for her! I'm glad she's found someone.”

“She sent me an e-mail invite. Wants me to bring a plus one.”

“Really.” She looks up from her computer. The Internet's not a thing under the surface, even with her apparently endless financial resources, but the abnormals on the IT team have managed to rig up a decent intranet. Henry's presence is sorely missed in that regard; hell, in some of Will's darker moments, he's even found himself thinking fondly of Tesla. He sticks with pen and paper most of the time.

“Actually, she said 'girlfriend.'”

“Guess you'd better go get one, then.”

“You made a pretty convincing argument that you did _not_ want me to do that the last time the subject came up,” he points out. 

“Well, I haven't been a _girl_ in quite a long time.”

He rolls his eyes. “We're debating semantics now?”

“Precision is important in our line of work,” she says primly.

“Would you prefer 'companion'?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Partner?”

“That would be confusing,” he says, “since I am definitely not your protege anymore.”

“No, you're not,” she agrees. 

“ _Lover_?”

“Not when you say it like that.”

“Ladyfriend?”

“Condescending.”

“How about this one,” he says. “The woman I love.”

He expects her to put up a fight, dismiss him, kick him out of her office. Same old, same old.

Instead she says, “That works.”

Huh. “Works for me, too.”

“Good,” she says.

“Glad we're in agreement. Not that she can go anyway, whoever she may be.”

An awkward silence descends as he waits for her to speak and she opts not to do so.

“I can tell you're waiting for some sort of reciprocal expression of—” She hesitates. “There are certain situations where I have found that actions speak louder than words. I'm rather busy right now, but perhaps we can pick this up later?” 

“It's a date,” he says.

“Yes,” she says, “I suppose it is.”

*

The celebration is in London; it's small but remarkably romantic, he thinks, given Kate's stated feelings on the subject. Any residual guilt about keeping up the pretense regarding the sanctuary instantly dissipates as he watches Kate and Gloria, a/k/a the brunette, and Henry and Erika, laughing and living their happy, normal lives. He was right. Magnus was right.

Kate throws her bouquet at him like a baseball. 

He gives it to one of Henry's children on his way out.

When he arrives at the Cusco airport, he's looking forward to getting home (huh, _home_ ) and going straight to bed. He doesn't sleep on planes—too many bad experiences—so he's sufficiently exhausted to be genuinely concerned that he's hallucinating when he sees Magnus waiting for him in baggage claim. It would be the most plausible explanation. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asks.

“Took a ton of photos. And I caught the bouquet. Didn't really have a say in the matter.”

“Such a silly tradition.”

“Agreed. I gave it away.”

She shakes her head. “You look so tired,” she says, taking his bag. “Sleep in the car. We'll be home soon.”

“Home,” he echoes. 

_I missed you_ , she doesn't say.

He gets the message anyway.

* 

After the wedding, his trips to Cusco become less and less frequent.

Everyone understands.

He delegates some of his HR responsibilities to the employee of the month: Jennifer from sector 11B. As it turns out, she's pretty good at discerning frivolous complaints from those that merit further investigation. Will thinks he probably should have taken her own concerns a little more seriously in retrospect.

He says as much to Magnus the next time they're alone together, in her room for once, and she laughs at him. Not very professional of her.

“You're just now learning to delegate responsibility?” She shakes her head. “I thought you knew everything.”

“No one knows everything,” he says. “Not even you.”

“Oh, really?” She sounds mildly offended. 

“Yes, really.” He pauses. “What am I thinking?”

After a moment, she says, “You're thinking that you miss being out in the field.”

He's a little taken aback. “I have thought that, yes, but it is definitely not the thought I'm having at this specific moment, given our location and... recent activities.”

“Point taken,” she concedes. “ _I'm_ thinking that you miss being out in the field. Leading a team, instead of reading reports. It's just so risky now--”

“I used to miss it,” he says. “I don't take our safety and security for granted, and I don't miss almost dying a _lot_ , but sure, sometimes. Not for a long time, though.” 

“We haven't discussed it in a while, but I was serious. If you want to leave for a bit, get your bearings--” She takes a deep breath. “I just don't want you to look back and feel that you've wasted your best years.”

That's the kind of statement that Magnus normally doesn't make until one or both of them is at death's door, and even on those occasions it's pretty rare. He's a little concerned that she might have another undisclosed health condition, but he decides to play it off. “I'm actually starting to like the HR stuff. It's very satisfying to solve problems that are relatively low-stakes. The fate of the world doesn't depend on whether the employees in sector 11B can get along or have to be separated. Although we probably should talk about what to do with that supervisor.”

“I want you to be happy,” she says.

He sits up. “Magnus, have I done something to give you the impression that I'm not happy here?”

She doesn't answer.

“Really? You're not sure? Because I feel like I've been pretty demonstrative. I can be a little louder next time, if you want. I was trying not to disturb the residents. Or give the employees reason to gossip. But, hey, whatever it takes...”

“It's just—it's a big commitment, Will,” she says.

“It is." He lets it sink in. 

She sighs, apparently ready to abandon the subject for now. “Well, I'm glad you're settling into the HR functions. You _are_ quite good with the employees.”

“I am. And it's not the only thing I'm good at, or so I've been told.”

“Actions,” she starts to say, but he's already pressing a kiss to her exposed stomach. “Did I mention that I'm glad you're not taking that sabbatical?”

“Me too,” he says.

*

She seems reasonably satisfied with the outcome, but he knows it's not the last time they'll have the conversation.

The next time will probably be during some vicious fight. The time after that will be when she's dying again, or when she's infected with a parasite or something. The time after that will probably be in his bed, another fit of insecurity or guilt or doubt or whatever it is that prompts her to push him to leave.

They can discuss it once a week until the end of time. His answer will be the same. He's sure of that.

Well--

Okay, maybe not _every_ time.

But just because things might be said in the heat of battle that he'll have to take back doesn't mean he's changed his mind.

On the other hand, maybe none of that will never happen. 

After all, no one knows everything. Not even Magnus. 

Not even him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Stay Gold" by First Aid Kit.


End file.
